


My Heart Stops when You Look at Me

by saturnmeetsmercury (jarofhearts)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bucky Barnes is a sweet idiot, F/M, Fluff, Homecoming Dance, Natasha Romanov always gets what she wants, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 23:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5685535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofhearts/pseuds/saturnmeetsmercury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky wants Natasha to be his date for the Homecoming Dance. Natasha wants Bucky to be her date. But they still end up going alone, and neither is particularly happy about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart Stops when You Look at Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the BuckyNat Secret Santa 2015, and it's for [the-grand-duchess-natalia](the-grand-duchess-natalia.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and her prompt ‘High School AU’. I absolutely love high school AUs, and I really hope you like this little thing I put together for it!
> 
> A huge, huge thank you and all my love go (as pretty much always with anything BuckyNat related) to [weinersoldier](http://weinersoldier.tumblr.com/), without whom this story wouldn’t exist. Also, everyone go read her story once she posts it, because it will be stunning.

Bucky wonders if anybody would even notice if he just hid under the covers until tomorrow morning.

Honestly, it seems like a solid plan; he hasn't managed to scare up a date for tonight's Homecoming dance, and hiding on Steve's couch for the night seems like way more of a solid plan than third-wheeling with Steve and Sharon for the dance. Even Sam has found himself a date despite his previous insistence that he didn't want one, and where the hell does that leave Bucky -

"- bagels, figured I'd drop by," Sharon's voice filters into the living room from the entry way, and then the unmistakable sound of Steve giving her an enthusiastic kiss hello, oh, come on - _gross_ -

It's bad enough that they have to be obnoxious morning people _and_ a couple of the nauseatingly wholesome perfect kind, it's too fucking early for _both_ -

Bucky pulls the couch cushion further over his face, letting out a groan that partially drowns out Steve's reply.

"- amazing, y'know that, these look great."

It's quiet for a long moment after that, and since there aren't any sounds of more kissing, Bucky is pretty sure that there's a wordless conversation going on.

He used to be the only one Steve did that with, and boy was his life easier back then.

But Steve and Sharon have been together for _ages_ , since they were fifteen, and who the hell hadn’t seen that coming, the guy and girl who’d go on to become captain of the football and girl’s volleyball teams respectively. And this - _thing_ , the wordless conversation thing, has started, what, half a year ago?

And, okay, ugh - Bucky is pretty sure that the 'conversation’ is about him.

"Hey, Buck," Steve's voice eventually carries over to him, and he can hear two pairs of feet shuffling into the living room. "Breakfast?"

Bucky shakes his head for a moment before realizing that, yeah, nobody can see him, but instead of moving the pillow he just lets out a long sigh.

"Nah -"

But Steve beats him to the punch - damn it - peeling the cushion away from Bucky's face, and then there are two smiling, blond-and-blue-eyed faces looking down at him and _ugh_ -

"You guys are annoying, y'know that, right?"

Sharon laughs quietly, making an exaggerated face and nudging Steve's side with her elbow.

"Yikes - better cover him back up, close the coffin before the daylight turns him to stone."

But even squinting as he is, Bucky can see suspicion dawning on Steve's face. He starts frowning, and Bucky quickly closes his eyes again.

"Bucky," Steve starts, unsurprisingly, only a moment later, because goddamnit, he’s probably the only one who can guess why he’s grumpy this morning and was uncharacteristically quiet when they met up with a few of their teammates the night before. "I need you to answer a very important question." Steve pauses again, and oh God -

"Did you ask Natasha to the dance?"

Without opening his eyes, Bucky reaches up and snatches the cushion out of Steve's hands to cover his face once more, muffling another dissatisfied groan.

"No, of course not."

And it's not like he didn't _want_ to - god, of _course_ he did, Natasha is _amazing_ . He's spent the past two years admiring her from mostly afar and the better half of the previous year trying to figure out how to get her to go out with him. She's _everything_ he wants in a girl, she's smart and _beautiful_ and a little mysterious and also a little bit scary in a hot kind of way, he would _die_ to get her to date him, but -

"She's gotta boyfriend, m'not an asshole."

And wasn’t that a bummer, when over the summer these stories came up, that some people have, on various occasions, seen her with an older guy -

There is a silence that lasts for just a moment too long. And then Steve lets out a small groan.

"Oh my god. I thought you _told_ him -"

“What, no, that’s your job, _you_ ’re his best friend -”

“But _you’_ re -”

"Told me what?"

It makes Bucky curious enough to lift the cushion again, peering up at Steve, who's looking at Sharon, and then glances back at him.

"She _doesn't_."

Bucky just stares at Steve for a moment.

It's too early for this.

"What?"

  
When his friends just exchange another glance, he pushes himself up to sit. Steve and Sharon straighten up too, no longer leaning over the back of the couch but still watching him, looks of dismay in Steve’s case and confusion in Sharon’s on their faces.

"Natasha doesn't have a boyfriend," Sharon repeats, and next to her Steve rubs his hand over his hair. And well, Sharon probably _does_ know, she _is_ friends with Natasha after all - one of the very few people in their school.

It only happened at the very beginning of this school year, when Sharon and Natasha got paired up on a history project, which, _God_ , Bucky was - he hesitates to use the word _devastated_ , but come on, it wasn’t _fair_ , Sharon wasn’t the one who -

So, alright, yes, maybe he was devastated over not having been paired with Natasha instead of Sharon for _days_. Especially when somehow, to everyone’s surprise, the popular volleyball captain and the daughter of Russian immigrants who clearly has most of her connections outside of school instead of with the peers her age there, actually started hanging out after their project was over. And were the whole older boyfriend rumors not a thing, Bucky would have surely hoped that Sharon would bring her over sometimes to hang out with them. But as it is, Bucky’s just relieved that so far she hasn’t.

He’s been ridiculous enough just watching her from afar.

"What?" Bucky asks again, dumbly, looking from Sharon back to Steve. Come _on_ , this isn't happening, he didn't _actually_ -

"But everyone who - Sam too, he said she was out with that older guy, when he took Wanda to that concert, what -"

"This is a mess," Steve proclaims and rubs a hand over his face before looking back at Bucky. "Alright, from what I know, which is only second hand knowledge I should add," he says and glances at Sharon again with slightly raised eyebrows, but she only crosses her arms over her chest and looks back challengingly, "she has a brother, who is four years older than her, and a soldier, and only home on leave every so often. Who the others saw her with was either him, _or_ her best friend who she grew up next door to, who's two years older, at college, and comes home for the holidays. Which seems to be where the older boyfriend - boyfriends? - stories are coming from."

"And nobody thought to tell me this?"

"I thought you _knew_!"

"Oh, right, like m'gonna ask her!" Bucky drops back onto the couch with a huff, glaring up at Steve and Sharon in turn. "Right, that'd go _great_ , imagine - 'so, are all the rumors about you running around with older guys true?' For fuck's sake -"

Steve makes a somewhat exasperated, slightly guilty motion with his arms.

"Okay well, clearly this is a case of miscommunication and assuming - wrongly, I'm _sorry_ \- that _someone_ told you. Fact is she has no boyfriend. Sharon?" He looks at her for confirmation, who rolls her eyes but then looks at Bucky too to repeat, “She does not have a boyfriend.”

"Well, she _could've_ ," Bucky replies petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest. And sure, he's acting like an idiot, but well, neither one of _them_ is stuck going to this dance alone just because they didn't have the balls to ask the person they've been crushing _hard_ on -

She probably would've said no, anyway, so whatever.

Maybe this'll get him out of going, at least.

"Last time I let either of _you_ know _anything_ about who I'm -"

" _Anyway_ ," Sharon interrupts him now, raising her eyebrows at him. "You do know now. No boyfriends. And look at the even brighter side! She'll be there tonight, so you've got a golden opportunity!"

"Too bad m'not going," Bucky sighs, making another grab for the pillow before Steve holds it up out of his reach.

Alright, so - okay, _maybe_ Sharon's right, but he's not admitting it, and he's sure as hell not going to the dance _alone_ just so Natasha can laugh at how he's so pathetic he can't even scare up a date for -

"Nope, not happening."

Now they're both just giving him incredulous looks.

"But why not?" Steve wants to know, bunching up the pillow on the backrest in front of him and leaning on it. "Come on, it's our last Homecoming, you're not going to stay home and mope."

"Staying home isn't going to make her magically appear and - do whatever it is you think of when you're daydreaming," Sharon adds with a grin.

But, no, that's _exactly_ what he's gonna do.

"Spend a lotta time thinking about that, Carter?" Bucky raises his eyebrows at her, throwing a sarcastic glance at Steve. "Watch your girl, Steve, you're not doing a good enough job if she's getting all curious about my daydreams.”

Steve just shrugs, majorly unconcerned.

"It's been pretty obvious what you've been daydreaming about, Buck."

"It is not," Bucky replies lamely, but -

Yeah, alright, that leather skirt from two weeks ago -

Focus.

"Still not going, nothing you can say is gonna convince me."

"Okay, _but_ ," Sharon draws her eyebrows up at him. "What if she's going to be at the ball tonight - which she is - all by herself - which she _is_ \- and some guy comes up to her and asks her to dance, and she says yes. And they dance, a _lot_ , and she finds herself having _so much fun_ , and then, who knows, they might end up making out in a corner somewhere, or even -"

Bucky narrows his eyes at her, frowning.

Jesus, how does Steve handle her?

"Then make sure you get his name, so I can beat him up on Monday -"

"Jesus, Bucky," Steve huffs out a breath, reaches into the bag by his feet and gets out a bagel. He tears it in half and offers one piece to Sharon before starting to eat his own. "You do realize that this is a surefire way of pining forever."

But Bucky reaches up to snatch the bagel out of Steve's hand before he can get a second bite in, sighing again before finally pulling himself up and off the couch. He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully, watching Steve and Sharon share a meaningful glance when they think he's not looking.

Alright, fine.

What is it, that they were going over in English - faint heart never won - whatever, he can do this -

" _Fine_."

"And with that, I will leave you to whatever it is you boys do to get ready," Sharon says, a somewhat triumphant look on her face as she passes her half of the bagle back to Steve and leans up to steal a brief kiss. "Good luck," she adds to her boyfriend with a grin and turns to leave. "Later, Bucky!"

Bucky grumbles at her retreating back, rolling his eyes when he thinks Steve's isn’t looking - aw, damn -

"Do I have to come knock you over the head?" Steve says, giving him a look, his eyebrows all the way up.

"Pretty sure I can take you," Bucky chuckles, polishing off the bagel in his hand and reaching to pluck the bag off the table couch table. So - alright, if he's doing his, he's doing it right, which means getting halfway-presentable before tonight and trying his hardest to not _totally_ freak out.

Crap.

"Besides, you need me to tie your tie, so let's get going, huh?"

"Breakfast first," Steve announces in return and, plopping down on the couch Bucky has more or less vacated, reaches for the bag as well to pick up a second bagel for himself. "Then everything else."

Bucky just takes another bagel and digs around for the cream cheese, handing it to Steve when he reaches for it.

Right.

One thing at a time.

He can totally do this.

Easy, right?

 

***

 

It's her last year of school, the last Homecoming dance before graduation, and Natasha is… mildly frustrated.

Yes, that sounds about right. _Mildly frustrated._

Granted, okay - she's never been one to hang around the All-American popular people in school (until Sharon happened, for some reason that she doesn't bother looking into too much), and she's also kind of good at not being obvious. But has she been _this_ inconspicuous about actually _wanting_ James to ask her to be his date?

He hasn't, which is why she’s date-less for this whole damn ball now. And she thought that maybe he actually just couldn't come, for whatever reason, but no. When she arrived about half an hour after the official beginning, he was there already, with Steve and Sharon, with Sam and the whole rest of the football team.

And Natasha has brooded over that for the first hour of the ball, trying to recapitulate why exactly she is even interested in him to begin with. Because in so many things he's just a typical high school jock, good looking and popular and acting all charming tough guy half the time. But, okay, she watched him, and in reality he's more of a dork than a tough guy, and he's just -

He's sweet. He's nice and polite and studious, he gets adorably flustered sometimes - especially when they talk in class. And Natasha's not crazy, she _knows_ she hasn't imagined it, and that it's because of _her_.

So she has waited for him to ask her out, but he hasn't. And now she's here, outside the gym in the pleasantly cool evening air, _mildly frustrated_.

God, she wishes Clint were here so she could rant to him. But at least she's found Logan, which is also good, who has snuck out for a smoke behind a line of bushes, and now they're sitting on the low, wooden half wall with the bushes at their backs, and Natasha watches the smoke dissolving against the slowly darkening sky.

“You don’t really look like you want to be here,” Logan observes, though he’s not even looking at her. His gaze, similar to hers, is somewhere out there.

Natasha shrugs, tilting her head a little, watching her hair slide over her shoulder.

“Why are _you_ here?” she asks eventually, finally looking over at him. Her lips curl into an amused little smirk as he shrugs as well.

“Last one, I suppose,” he eventually returns, and Natasha nods. She does understand that, her own reasonings similar enough.

He takes another drag of his cigarette, and she watches the smoke unfurl again. It’s a strangely calm moment, one of those things Natasha appreciates about him, that quiet, brooding teenager who looks like he has already seen too much but, as she knows, has a kind heart under all that harsh exterior. And she likes that he doesn’t seem to mind having her around, and especially that he doesn’t ask too many overly curious questions. There aren’t many people like that. And Natasha’s friends are, mostly, not going to this school, Clint, Bobbi, the people from her dancing classes, so it’s just -

It’s nice to have him around. And she’s grateful for the quiet moment, because having spent some time here, she doesn’t feel like brooding anymore. It’s not going to get her anywhere. And Natasha believes in taking things you want into your own hands.

So she stands up eventually, and smoothes her hands down her knee long dress.

“I’m going back inside. Need to get myself a date.”

Logan glances at her with an amused curl to his lips.

“Surprised you haven’t already,” he says and then adds, “Fingers crossed you won’t give him a heart attack.”

“Appreciated,” Natasha rolls her eyes, but it’s good-natured. And he’s right -

She should have taken this into her own hands quite a while ago.

The party is in full swing by now, the dance floor having filled up with swaying, more or less elegantly moving teenagers. Natasha looks around slowly, taking in the different groups, and then moves back to the seat she previously had.

James is still at the table they were at when she left. Steve and Sharon have gone dancing, and he’s talking to Sam, animatedly, the gesturing, the way he drags his hand through his short hair to push it out of his forehead making a small smile curl around her lips. She just remains seated on her chair, leaned back, relaxed, her arms lightly crossed over her chest.

Natasha just watches, and waits.

That’s how she notices that he keeps sneaking glances in her direction. Of course she does, because he’s never been very subtle about it - in English class, over three tables in the cafeteria at lunch, while they wait for the bus - and tonight’s no exception, even if he seems to be avoiding catching her eyes extra-studiously. Every so often, his eyes will wander over to her above Sam’s shoulder, his hands slowing the slightest bit in his gesturing as he watches her for a moment or two. His gaze always flits away again before she catches him - or at least, until he thinks she has - but he’s still doing it.

Come _on_ -

Natasha is just about convinced that he's the most clueless teenager ever. So, alright, she's going to have to make it impossible for him to miss.

The next time his eyes stray her way, Natasha very obviously looks back, drawing up her eyebrows at him - subtle, but there's no way he doesn’t see it. And yes - his cheeks flush immediately, and he drops her gaze. He must trip over his words, too - and he usually does, when he tries to catch her after class, it’s adorable and, no, don’t think too hard about that - because Sam finally looks over his shoulder to see what James is gaping at, looking back at her for only a moment before he gets up, patting James on the shoulder meaningfully and abandoning him to sit alone at the empty table as Sam goes to join Wanda and a small group of her friends near the doors.

Maybe she owes Sam a little bit of thanks after tonight. Natasha debates with herself for a moment, but then gets to her feet, still making sure to keep eye contact with James. She slings her small handbag over her shoulder again, and motions for him to come join her as she moves slowly back towards the exit of the gym.

He just makes an incredulous face, his cheeks darkening further, pointing at his chest in disbelief like ‘who, me?’ and then looking around, as if he’s somehow missed that she’s entertained every single one of his ridiculous attempts at flirting over the last weeks -

Christ. Maybe she should reconsider. But his reaction is so - so endearing, dear God, she can't help herself, what is she getting herself into here -

Natasha only rolls her eyes in vague amusement and crooks her finger at him, not so subtle this time. She has reached the entry now and leans back against the wall, waiting. Come on, Barnes -

He takes another look around, almost as if he still expects someone else to answer her, before practically jumping from his chair and almost-jogging over to her. He’s dressed in smart dark grey slacks, his tie already loosened, the neck of his pale-blue shirt unbuttoned, and he must have all but given up already, why on earth -

“Hey!” He’s out of breath, his cheeks still flushed, but he’s close enough that Natasha can see the glint in his eyes, the way the color of his shirt draws out the warmth in them. “Hi, you - hi -”

"Hi," she returns, barely pausing before pushing herself away from the wall again to lead him outside. Natasha doesn't want eyes on them for this, in case -

Just in case.

And she ignores the ridiculous flutter in the pit of her stomach when he follows after her immediately.

"There's something I want to do that I need a partner for," Natasha tells him instead, glancing back at him over her shoulder, briefly, her gaze trailing up over the few undone buttons of his shirt, over his lips, the flush on his cheeks, to his eyes.

And he follows her willingly, grinning, scrambling ahead to hold open the door that leads to the courtyard outside once he realizes that’s where she’s headed.

Natasha can feel the nervous energy practically radiating from him as he walks next to her, and she also notices the small glances he shoots her, trying to be inconspicuous about it. It makes the corners of her mouth twitch. But she ignores the question obviously brimming everywhere under his skin and crosses the courtyard with him, turns right behind that line of bushes again - Logan isn't here anymore - and then walks a little further until they've reached a spot that, now that it's rapidly getting darker, is only very hard to make out.

"Alright," Natasha says and turns back to him, brushing her dress to the side and sitting down before she produces the small pocket flask from her handbag. "You're going to be my drinking partner for this."

He just stares at her, dumbstruck.

It's adorable.

"What - ?"

She has to fight with herself not to laugh out loud, but Natasha has always had a good grip on herself. So she just holds the pocket flask up again, shaking it meaningfully.

"You do drink, don't you?"

"Yes! Sure," James replies and hurries to sit down opposite her on that half wall, but not close enough for their knees to touch, she notices. His words come so quickly, and his cheeks take on another soft flush, and Natasha can't help smirking. But she bites down on the inside of her lip and doesn't say anything about it.

It doesn’t really surprise her, and Natasha can just guess that this 'sure' consists of a small handful of times with some of his teammates, or his best friends. Because somehow she just knows he'd never come home drunk to his three little sisters.

So she just hums in acknowledgement and uncaps the flask.

"I have a toast to make," she tells him, sure to keep her eyes locked on his as she says, "To your failure to ask me to this dance that resulted in both of us going alone."

“I - what? Wait -”

James’ cheeks flush darker, and he doesn’t make any attempt to move closer, just stares at her now, fully, gaping. There’s something startled in his face, but it’s almost charming, like he didn’t realize, or maybe he just has been hoping against hope that she hasn’t.

“I didn’t -”

"That's right, you didn't."

But when she says it, it's with a sigh, and she can't bring herself to put any edge into it. So Natasha brings the flask to her lips and takes a swig instead, the alcohol burning as it goes down her throat.

Only then she can bring herself to look at him again, which seems to shake him out of it and gets him to start talking.

"Listen -"

All at once, he starts toward her, shifting closer, one hand reaching out and then dropping away like he's thought better of it, and Natasha feels something hopeful flutter beside the wash of warmth inside her chest. James chews his lip, looking almost sheepish, and then he shifts again, and their knees bump, and suddenly he's right in front of her. He's _tall_ this close, even sitting, closer than he's ever been, and maybe -

"Listen, it's not because I didn't want to, I just -”

Natasha waits for a moment, for him to go anywhere with that sentence, but he doesn’t look like he has any clue about where it’s supposed to go either.

“Then why is it?” she finally asks as the silence becomes too long, searching his eyes. “If it’s not that?”

She doesn't hear him at first, the words barely a mumble before he reaches out to take the flask from her hand. Taking a quick drink himself, he clears his throat, coughing slightly and taking the opportunity to avoid her eyes.

"Thought you had a boyfriend," he mumbles again, only slightly more clearly, looking sheepish.

Natasha blinks. Of all the things she thought she might possibly hear… She's never had a boyfriend, why would -

"What made you think that?" she wants to know somewhat warily, trying to read the expression on his face.

He doesn't exactly look like he wants to continue the conversation, at least not the way it's going.

"Y'know, I - I heard -”

Natasha can't help it, her eyes narrow. What has he heard?

She has always been aware that the way she doesn't particularly look for new friends in school makes her the subject of gossip, and she doesn't particularly care. Not usually anyway. But when it interferes with this, well -

But if she says the wrong thing now, who knows, he might retreat, and that's the last thing she wants.

So Natasha reaches out, makes herself not hesitate when she lightly, very lightly places her hand on his collar, just next to where the top buttons of the shirt have been opened. Her voice is quiet to match the touch.

"Heard what?"

There’s a soft hitch in his breath, and Natasha’s eyes snap up to his face again. He’s looking back at her, eyes wide in the half darkness.

“Just - y’know,” he says again, then takes a deep breath. “Stories. About - people who saw you out with other guys? Older and - I thought it fit and -”

He trails off, probably because of the way she’s looking at him.

He _what_?

After a moment his face takes on this expression that carries a hint of dread in it, and he stumbles over himself to say, “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just -”

“Stop talking.”

He falls silent abruptly. Natasha sighs and pulls her hand away from his chest, instead taking another large sip from her flask. And wonders why she isn’t more surprised.

“Sharon,” she eventually speaks up again, considering him carefully, “and by extension your _best friend,_ know that I don’t have a boyfriend.”

James lets out a soft groan.

“I know, I just - They only told me this morning.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow immediately.

“Oh?”

“I know, they just… each thought the other had mentioned it or something -”

This is ridiculous. Natasha takes another sip, and then wordlessly hands the flask back over to James who fiddles with it in his lap, gaze lowered onto it, before he drinks as well. It gives her a few moments to just watch him, because he doesn’t look back at her again, maybe too nervous, or too embarrassed. It’s getting too dark to make out his features all too clearly now, but Natasha realizes she doesn’t need to.

It might have been him who watched her whenever he thought she didn’t see, but she has looked back whenever she had the chance to.

She’s just always been better at hiding it.

“So, let me get this straight,” Natasha finally breaks the silence that has fallen on them, and James shifts subtly next to her, clearly listening. A smirk spreads on her lips. “You thought I had a boyfriend - an _older_ boyfriend - but you still flirted with me?”

And she can _watch_ how his eyes widen and finally snap up to look at her again.

“I didn’t -”

“Yes, you did,” Natasha interrupts him, and the smirk on her face grows softer as she adds, “And I love that.”

James just stares at her for a long moment. And then suddenly a wide, wide smile breaks out over his face, one that makes him bury his head in his hands and her heart get wide and warm. Especially when he starts laughing and it’s muffled in his hands, and Natasha is overcome with the sudden urge to reach out, to take his hands away from his face and just -

But he lets them fall away before she can decide what to do with that urge, and shakes his head a little.

“Okay, I - you -” James looks over at her again a little tentatively, and it’s one of those looks he gets sometimes, the ones that are entirely precious. “You - If I’d asked you, to be my date for the ball,” he asks slowly, “you… would have said yes?”

Natasha huffs out a soft, small laugh.

“I thought that was obvious. Though - I suppose maybe it wasn’t,” she adds with a wry smile, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach.

That’s - she’s never had that before, not like _this_.

Oh, she’s in trouble…

But Natasha can’t bring herself to mind when he bites down on his lower lip and then starts to just _beam_ at her and, alright, yes, she does want to kiss him.

Pretty badly.

“James -” Natasha murmurs, aimlessly, and she reaches up to put her hand right back on that place on his chest again, where she can feel his heart hammering. It brings a smile to her face, sudden and unexpected, and when she looks up, his eyes are right on her.

“Are you going to make me wait again?” she murmurs, smile turning wry.

And it’s the right thing to say. Because only a moment later he has brought up a hand of his own to cup her cheek gently against his palm, and they’re finally, finally kissing.

 

***

 

Bucky feels warm.

Scratch that, he feels _hot_. It’s everywhere under his skin, and his free hand, the one that isn’t wrapped around Natasha’s, reaches up to tug on his collar, to get just a little more cool evening air on his skin before the doors close behind them.

They’ve finally decided to get back into that gym to their Homecoming ball, even though he wouldn’t have minded _at all_ just staying all night out in that spot behind the bushes where they first kissed.

And - Jesus Christ, he’s aware of the fact that he’s not _exactly_ in the same state that he left the ball in, and it’s very obvious. That his hair is tousled and his lips are kissed red, and that Natasha is leading him back in there by her hand and he’s just following her readily. And he _doesn’t care_. Because he just spent the past _hour_ kissing Natasha, and that’s enough to put a grin on his lips that literally nothing is going to wipe away.

She gives him that look over her shoulder again when they step through the doors, the music abruptly unmuffled and loud around them again, that look that makes him want to pinch himself. Warm and proud, satisfied, content - sexy as hell. There are gazes following them immediately, murmurs and giggles and low whistles, and _Bucky doesn’t care_.

He promised his girl a dance. And he’s not going to disappoint her again.


End file.
